


Everyone is Beginning to Breath as I Break Down

by vampireswillneverhurtyou101



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:24:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampireswillneverhurtyou101/pseuds/vampireswillneverhurtyou101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You'll never know how to make it on your own and you'll never show weakness for letting go'</p><p>Niall goes missing after they argue. Liam watches as Zayn breaks down.</p><p>This is a terrible summary, hopefully the story is better. There will be implied Larry, definite Ziall and later Ziam, all fused together with plenty of angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyone is Beginning to Breath as I Break Down

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> (This was inspired by a fic I read absolutely ages ago and if anyone could link me to it I'd be so grateful. It might seem similar to begin with but it will end differently.)

They had argued over something trivial; something pointless and Zayn tells him to fuck off. To leave. Tells him to get out. And he does, because he has always done exactly as Zayn said. He leaves and Zayn hears the sound of the front door to their apartment slamming shut and stands in the echoing silence for a moment before falling to the floor, exasperated, his body wracked with sobs. He's sick of it, sick of the arguing, sick of feeling worthless and disgusting and he knows it's not Nialls fault. He knows that he is the one who needs to get help. Niall had done all he could but Zayn had pushed him further and further. 

He drags himself to the bathroom; the familiar itch beginning to creep in as his fingers scan the bathroom cabinets for sleeping pills. Niall had chucked it all away, washed it down the drains and made him promise he wouldn't use it anymore and Zayn had nodded and promised and told him he was sorry but now he needed it; could feel the craving beginning to buzz within him and Niall didn't need to know? 

His fingers caught hold of a familiar bottle- sleeping pills. He sighed, a wave of relief washing over him as he pushed the craving deeper inside him and pulled out 2 capsules. He swallowed them quickly and placed the bottle back in the cabinet, avoiding his eyes as the mirrored door swung shut. He made his way through to the room they shared and reached for his phone. He had no missed calls. He tried Niall 4 then 5 then 6 times before the pills began to take action and his eyes became heavy. He knew Niall wouldn't stay out long - he always came back after an hour or two, after the worst of Zayn's anger and cravings had passed. He always came back. Zayn muttered it over and over as he let his heavy eyelids shut and rested his head against the hard wood of the headboard. He would be back by the time he woke. 

He awoke to the orange haze of sunlight streaming through open blinds. He reached across the expanse of the bed; reaching for a familiar frame - Niall. But instead his fingers met cold sheets. He sat up, a flare of panic suddenly buzzing through him. He reached for his phone. Niall hadn't text. Niall hadn't called. Niall had made no contact. The panic built as he threw back the covers, perhaps he had slept on the sofa? He thought, rationally. 

But the sofa was as empty as his bed. He grabbed at his phone and punched in Harry's number, pressing the phone to his ear and waiting impatiently. He drummed his fingers against the work counter, listening to the sound of the dialing tone. Finally, Harry answered and Zayn gushed his question, rambling slightly. 

'Is Niall there? He isn't here!' Harry is silent for a moment before answering. 

'No sorry man, but it's like 8am maybe he's just gone out for a run or something?' 

He paces their apartment; backwards and forwards, desperately trying Niall's phone. 

'Please pick up, Ni,' he mutters, pressing his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. But he is once again met by Niall's answer phone; the cheery tone of the young Irish man's voice. 

'Hello, it's Niall here but I'm not here because I can't reach the phone, which leaves us both in a predicament so if you could please leave a message I'll call you back. Unless you're Louis because Louis sucks. Bye.' 

'Where are you? Why didn't you come home last night? I'm so sorry. Please call me when you hear this. I'm so sorry,' Zayn is mumbling and rambling and he can almost imagine how funny Niall will find this voicemail when he hears it, 'I love you, Niall,' he finishes, ringing off.

He waits by the phone until 10am, heart pounding every time he receives a message or an email or a bloody tweet. Where was he? He wonders if he is being paranoid? Or whether Niall doesn't want to talk to him, because perhaps last night was the last straw and then he is grabbing at his phone again and calling Liam because somehow Liam was always able to come up with an idea that would solve any situation. 

'When did you last see him? What was he wearing?' Liam asks and Zayn answers; last night at about 1am, he was wearing jeans, a vest, a hoodie and perhaps a coat, 'Zayn, if you really think something could have happened to him, you need to report him as missing,' Zayn's falters for a moment at the word. Missing. He couldn't be. He would be home soon. He would hear the familiar sound of his key fitting into place and clicking open; he would hear the sound of him calling Zayn's name and humming as he headed straight for the kitchen and the warm smell of toast immediately cooking. He would be home soon. 'I'll come round, just wait there,' Liam tells him and rings off. He sits and let's his head fall into his hands as he stares down at his phone. Waiting. Ready. Because any minute, any second now Niall would call and tell him how much of a dumb fuck he is; tell him he is a twat for last night and Zayn will beg him to come home, and he will, because he always does. 

*** 

When Liam arrives, he calls the police and Zayn thinks it's all suddenly too rushed. Thinks the police will laugh and tell him not to worry and ring off because he will be home soon, right? But instead they dispatch an officer for a statement and Zayn stares blankly at the front door to his apartment, waiting anxiously. 

The police ask questions and he answers. He can feel Liam's eyes on him all the while. They scribble notes and ask Zayn to sign forms. He does as he's told. 

After they leave, neither man talks. A thick, unpalpable silence hangs between them. Zayn feels sick, he hasn't eaten and it's almost 1pm. His stomach churns uncomfortably but the thought of food, of preparing a sandwich and sitting down to eat lunch, repulses him. Because how can he be thinking of food at a time like this? And so he clutches his stomach and ignores the hollow feeling inside him. 

'You argued, didn't you,' Liam states more than asks, eyes fixed on the floor but snapping up to meet Zayn's as he waits for his answer. 

Zayn nods. 

He half expects Liam to shout and tell him how stupid he is; how this is his fault, but then he remembers that Liam has always been the level headed one - the one who didn't assume, didn't jump to conclusions and so he simply nods. 

'Did he say where he was going?' and Zayn shakes his head. His mouth tasted bitter and stale as he remembered the words he had shouted last night. 

A knock at the door, two, then three knocks at the door and the sound of two well known voices come from outside, caught the attention of both Liam and Zayn, who instinctively walked to the door and opened it. A mop of hazel curls, followed by a slicked back almost-quiff walked into the apartment. Harry and Louis. 

'Still no sign of him?' Louis asked, straight to the point and as blunt as ever. Liam shook his head. 

'What happened?' Harry asked and Zayn suddenly felt a wave of panic flooding him. He could feel Louis' eyes burning into him, almost as if he knew and perhaps he did. Perhaps Niall had text him before he left, called him and told him of all the cruel and vile things he'd screamed. Perhaps Louis knew. 

'He just left last night,' Liam answered plainly and Zayn's eyes snapped up to meet his. Liam smiled, a half-barely-there smile. But it was a smile all the same. 

They don't talk much after that. 

Liam busies himself calling friends and trying Niall's number over and over. Harry and Louis sit together on the sofa; both holding phones and texting rapidly. Zayn slips through to his bedroom - their bedroom and stands at the foot of the bed for a moment. He considers just climbing inside it and crawling beneath the covers. He considers telling Liam that this isn't real and it's just a bad dream and that he is going to bed. Maybe, he prays, this is all just a bad dream. But then there is the echoing sound of knuckles against the door of the apartment and Zayn comes crashing back to reality. 

Two detectives enter and they talk in what seems like an entirely different language. Zayn can't concentrate on what they are saying. He feels distant, as though he is suspended above the others, watching the scene unfold from above. Their voices sound muffled and Zayn can't seem to make out all the words they are saying. He catches the end of sentences, and odd words:

'reported missing' 

'we're checking cctv of the area'

'search party' 

And then Liam is standing, shaking hands and directing them back to the door. He is smiling, but it's forced, so very forced. 

Hands clap Zayn's back as he's pulled into a fierce embrace by Louis. He steps back and Harry does the same. He holds him at arms length for a moment, and promises him that it's going to be ok; that Niall is going to be fine. Zayn nods, although he isn't sure why. The two men leave, promising they will continue to call Niall's phone and that they will be back in the morning and Liam nods and tells them to give them a call if they find anything out. 

Silence settles over the apartment once more. Liam offers to cook Zayn dinner, but he isn't hungry. Liam watches him for a long moment, eyes spilling with concern. 

'Do you want me to stay tonight?' He asks, voice tentative and soft. Zayn nods, suddenly unaware of how he's held it together all day as his eyes brim with stinging hot tears. 

His head was spinning; a splintering headache pounding within his skull and a thousand questions buzzing around. 

How had this happened? How had 24 hours changed so much? He needed Niall. 

He finds himself embraced in Liam's arms and he's pressing his face into his shirt and letting tears spill freely down his cheeks. He doesn't care that Liam is wearing a grey shirt and that when he pulls away twin patches of dark grey are left. He doesn't care that he is spluttering and bawling, because Niall is gone and he doesn't know where the fuck he is or what the fuck he is doing and suddenly his whole world seems to be shattering and he can only blame himself. Because this is all his fault. Suddenly, his mind is swimming with visions of horror and he asks Liam whether he thinks Niall has done anything to himself? He can't bring himself to say the words, but Liam knows what he is asking and he shakes his head. 

'Not Niall, he wouldn't.' Zayn clings to his words like a raft amid a storm because that is the only slither of hope he has. 

They sleep separately; Liam takes the sofa and Zayn sleeps in his own bed. Or attempts to sleep. He tosses and turns, pressing his face into Niall's pillow and breathing in the smell of his aftershave. It was a fresh smell, clean and with tones of mint. He squeezed back tears and wills his brain to shut off because there is nothing he can do there and then. Nothing he can say to turn back time. 

He drifts in and out of rest and soon the glow of the morning sun begins to seep through the slits in the blinds and he rolls over, praying that the past 24 hours has been a nightmare and that Niall will be asleep, peaceful and perfect. But instead, he is met with an empty bed. He feels the wave of guilt and sickness rolling over him once again as he throws back the covers and steps out. He wanders onto his balcony and scrambles for his lighter and fags. He lights one, pressing it to his lips and takes a drag. He breaths deeply and lets it out slowly, watching as the smoke dances softly in the morning air. 

He pulls his phone from his other pocket and dials Niall's number. He presses the phone to his ear and waits for the sound of Niall's answer phone. 

Sure enough he is met with the cheerful tones of the Irish lad's voice. 

'Please pick up,' His voice is raspy and dry, and there are a thousand things he wants to say, a thousand things he needs to know but what is the point when you are talking to a damned answer phone? 'I need you,' He half whimpers, before hanging up and stubbing his wilting fag butt out. 

The embers burn for a moment and Zayn watches as the wind causes them to flicker before finally they are gone. Diminished and all that is left is dust.


End file.
